


Build It Anyway

by devilinthedetails



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Determination, Gen, Knight and Squire - Freeform, Life Lessons, Questions, Repairs, mentoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 11:45:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17120750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilinthedetails/pseuds/devilinthedetails
Summary: Owen and Wyldon repair a refugee barrack.





	Build It Anyway

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Lisa at Goldenlake for the Wishing Tree Event.

Build It Anyway

Over the sound of his hammer pounding in a nail on the roof of a refugee barrack, Owen could hear the northern wind sweeping down from Scanra whistling in his ears. He considered that an improvement from last night when it had wailed in accompaniment to heavy snows that had broken the roof to one of the refugee barracks, which Owen was currently attempting to repair alongside dozens of refugees and soldiers. As he worked, he found himself wondering—no matter how hard he tried to squash the question because he had never been good at silencing himself even inside his own skull—what would happen if a blizzard came and crashed the roof in again…

“My lord?” he called to his knightmaster over the whistling wind. Lord Wyldon had joined in the effort to repair the roof with the intensity he devoted to any task. Owen wasn’t certain whether this latest endeavor was meant to inspire or intimidate those under his command, and that was one question he didn’t dare to ask. 

Lord Wyldon grunted and glanced up from the nail he was hammering into place. 

Owen interpreted that as encouragement—or at least not discouragement—to continue, so he went on, “Have you considered that we could put all this work into rebuilding the roof and another snowstorm might come and make it fall in again?” 

“I have.” Lord Wyldon stared at Owen with the stern expression that sank Owen’s stomach like a stone just as it had when he was a page caught complaining about difficult classwork or impossible training on the practice courts. 

Flustered by his knightmaster’s reprimand, Owen lost focus on his hammering, accidentally hitting his finger instead of the nail. Swallowing a yelp, he was at least grateful for the gloves that not only blocked out the chilly air but muffled the pain of the hammer blow to his finger as Lord Wyldon told him, crisp as morning frost, “We’re going to build it anyway, and if it falls in again, we’re going to rebuild it.” 

“That doesn’t seem like insanity to you—just repeating the same thing over and expecting different results?” Owen realized only after speaking them how rude the words sounded and added in the vague hope of improving their respectfulness, “Sir?” 

“It’s determination, not insanity, Jesslaw.” There was indeed a steely glint in his knightmaster’s eyes that made Owen think Lord Wyldon was without a doubt the most determined man he had ever met. “You can spend your whole life building something only for it to come crashing down about your ears, but you should still build it anyway.” 

Owen paused in his hammering to reflect on this since he wasn’t about to risk hitting himself a second time. Then he cocked his head as a sudden suspicion flared within him. “That’s meant to be a life lesson, isn’t it, my lord?” 

“All lessons are life lessons if you pay attention.” Lord Wyldon didn’t look up from his hammering, and Owen took that as a sign that he should resume pounding nails into position. The refugee barrack, as his knightmaster would doubtlessly remind him, wasn’t about to repair itself.


End file.
